


Five by five

by dancinguniverse



Category: Life (TV), Standoff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinguniverse/pseuds/dancinguniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie takes Matt for a ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five by five

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kunstvogel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstvogel/gifts).



> Planes and crossover losers for celestial-annihilation. Happy birthday! Hope you enjoy.

When they pull up to the airfield, Matt just stares for a while. “You’re not scared of flying, are you?” Charlie asks, all curiosity.

“No,” Matt says immediately, because he’s not. But he fiddles with his nearly empty travel cup of coffee instead of opening his door into the summer outside, which bakes the tarmac so that the far end of the airstrip wiggles in the heat.

“Because I didn’t think you would be, but I didn’t think you’d be scared of dogs, either, so —

“I’m not scared of dogs,” Matt says automatically. “I am rationally cautious.” Charlie just blinks at him, also waiting patiently inside the car, though it, too, is growing hotter the longer they sit without the engine running.

Actually, the dogs aren’t a bad analogy, Matt reflects, because he’s _not_ scared of flying, and he’s flown on passenger planes plenty of times before. But the airfield is littered with small planes barely bigger than the car they’re in, and — perhaps most importantly — he’s pretty sure from the glitter in Charlie’s eyes that he’s planning on flying them himself.

Rational caution seems like the minimum sane response.

“Do you have a license?” he asks.

“Earned it last week,” Charlie says proudly. “You’re going to be my first passenger.”

Matt’s touched in spite of his apprehension. He and Charlie haven’t been dating that long, and while they’re spending a lot of time together, this seems like —

“I asked Reese, but she just asked if she looked like a guinea pig to me.” Matt nods. That makes sense, both the question and the response. Reese is his partner, she and Charlie are like a hand and a glove, and it means she’s a lot quicker than he is at sussing out when Charlie’s off on some pet project, and when to make herself scarce. He’s still pleased he was Charlie’s second choice, even if he’s not certain he wants any part of the actual event.

“I asked Ted, too, but he said he’d used up all his white knuckle days in prison. Which seemed a little harsh, really, I’m a very good pilot.”

Matt frowns, and swallows the last of his coffee with a grimace. It’s cold from sitting in front of the AC vent the whole drive out. “Rachel busy?” he asks.

“She’s running a conference for her internship this weekend,” Charlie affirms, and Matt sighs. He guesses fourth is alight, and what’s he going to do, walk back to his apartment?

“Okay,” he says, and pushes the door open, swinging his legs out. “Let’s do this.”

Charlie ushers him into a heavily air-conditioned room and signs a log book, exchanging small talk with a man who barely looks up from his computer screen and doesn’t seem to register Matt’s presence at all. He plucks a key from the wall behind him and passes it to Charlie. “Weather’s looking good all weekend,” he says, and Matt wonders if he varies his words to anyone who comes in through the door.

“Thanks, Dan!” Charlie says, all chipper, and points Matt through the back door toward the hangar.

“You didn’t buy a plane?” Matt asks, a little surprised.

Charlie’s face falls only slightly. “Ted said it was only slightly worse of an investment than a boat.”

Privately, Matt also thinks that the rate at which Charlie goes through cars might also be a factor, but it’s probably best not to dwell on that while Charlie walks around the small craft, inspecting the body and wings, and then unblocks the wheels.

“You could buy one anyway,” Matt observes, peering at the plane through his sunglasses. It looks sturdy enough, two seats inside and way too many gauges and dials on the dashboard. It’s still so small.

“Let’s see how it goes!” Charlie agrees, and pulls the door open on his side, leaving Matt to either climb in or be left in the dirt.

Matt climbs in.

There are a few moments of stomach-dropping terror as the plane roars up into the sky, bouncing over thermals with jolts that make Matt clench at his armrests and Charlie grin with delight. But their flight calms as the landscape falls away beneath them and Charlie guides them away from the roads and buildings and the ocean opens up in an endless expanse of blue.

The plane’s engine is loud, but not enough to preclude conversation. Still, Charlie is quiet as he flies, and Matt lets him be. Partly, he doesn’t want to distract Charlie from whatever he’s doing to keep them in the air, and partly he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet smile on Charlie’s face that makes him look like the whole Zen thing might actually be working.

After about fifteen minutes of calm flying, Matt relaxes enough to enjoy the ride himself. He leans forward and looks down at the coastline passing by beneath them, the thin ribbons of whitecaps and waves, the buildings and the brown hills stretching away on one side, the cool sweep of the Pacific on the other. He doesn’t need to say anything either.

They spend the night in Monterey, in a hotel suite that probably costs more than Matt makes in a week. After dinner, and drinking on the ridiculous patio that is part of their suite (“It has its own grill, Charlie, who grills in their hotel room?”), Matt tumbles them both into the equally ridiculous bed and proceeds to pay Charlie back a little.

An hour later, he’s watching Charlie brush his teeth when it occurs to him. “You didn’t ask Ted,” he accuses.

Charlie doesn’t spit, just talks around his toothpaste. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You didn’t ask Ted to come with you on a romantic getaway,” Matt points out. “You definitely didn’t ask Rachel.”

Now Charlie wanders back into the bathroom, spits and rinses. Matt waits. He can tell when a confession is coming.

Charlie makes him wait until he’s turned out the bathroom light and the bed dips under his weight. “I thought you might get weird,” he admits. “If I made plans. Big ones.”

Matt’s going to blame it on the good food and the alcohol and the late night and the dark that he doesn’t get defensive about that. “Maybe,” he acknowledges. But he tucks himself around Charlie anyway, slinging an arm around his stomach and tangling their legs together.

“I did ask Reese,” Charlie insists, and Matt closes his eyes.

“Okay.”

“Should I ask you first next time?”

“Charlie,” Matt mumbles, not opening his eyes. “Shut up. This is good.”

“Okay.” Matt presses a sleepy kiss to his neck and lets himself fall toward sleep.


End file.
